


Juvie Memories

by genop0ke



Category: Total Drama
Genre: Bullying, Fire, Loss of Parent(s), Other, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genop0ke/pseuds/genop0ke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal reminisces on stuff that happened in juvie. That's it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juvie Memories

Juvie was a nice place, well, not completely. He had some good memories, though.

Where could he begin?

Right. How he got there.

He was at the ripe age of ten, almost eleven. Little Malcolm Smith was a troublemaker, always getting into trouble with the neighbors that abhorred him so. Sometimes they called the cops on him for his more severe acts, but they weren’t even that bad. They just hated him. However, everything took a massive turn on that day. It was late December, where New Year’s was just around the corner. His horrid parents had bought only sparklers for him to mess with once midnight hit, as if they’d even allow him to be up until then.

He got an idea. A really stupid one. Fire lit the fuse, right? The oven’s burners gave off fire. He’d just hold the sparkler over the sink and immediately douse anything that a spark caught.

It was pretty late and his parents had dozed off in a nearby room. They were heavy sleepers, nothing could wake them.

Carefully, he went and pulled out a sparkler, slowly turning the knob for the burner to turn on. When a small flame had built up, he stuck the end of the small firework into the fire. It ignited almost instantly, half of the stick already burning and sparking. A few sparks caught his little fingers, making him yelp and drop it onto the floor and back into the bag with the others. What a great time to forget about common sense. The bag practically exploded, making him run out the front door in fear.

It’s surprising how fast fires can spread and kill. His parents didn’t make it.

One neighbor witnessed the event, one that despised the boy. The police were called, and said neighbor insisted to throw him into juvie, believing the fire was completely on purpose.

The first few months in the place were the worst months of his life. There was a huge, bulky kid named Nick who got put in here cause of lock picking. He enjoyed to pick on weaker kids, especially new ones. Malcolm was barely around 5 feet in height, and skinny as hell. Even at night, he wasn’t safe.  Nick would pick the lock to his room and come in, crushing him under his body until he was unable to breathe and helpless. He had no pattern and just came in there around once or twice a week. Those nights were terrible. It made him hate contact. Even lightly bumping into someone mentally set him off, reminding him of those nights.

After a while, officials in the building noticed he had odd habits. He’d talk to himself in his sleep, having entire conversations with himself, even using different voices. It was surreal. Under certain pressures, he would act like different people while awake. Soon enough, they brought a psychologist and got him diagnosed with Dissociative Personality Disorder. MPD. Word got out, and the abuse turned on Malcolm would become worse. Being cornered by a stronger kid while being bombarded with insults and threats, getting beaten on while getting called a freak, it was all horrible.

Eventually, he got sick of it, realizing that they wouldn’t stop unless he asserted himself. He went several nights on end without sleep so his fronts wouldn’t talk to each other, gaining dark circles around his ochre eyes as he kept himself wired on caffeine and constantly moving to stay up. Of course, he’d crash sometimes for unhealthily long amounts of time, but he’d soon be back to extended times of consciousness. Around the point of a year and a half since his admission, he gained a fierce temper spawned from what used to just be slight crankiness from being tired.

Despite being so small and skinny, he was surprisingly strong. Maybe he was just one of those people with strong muscles that weren’t as thick on his body. First he fought back with words and deflecting insults, but soon enough he started physically defending himself. Anyone smaller or weaker than him grew to fear his fiery temper, but the larger, stronger ones still kept on.

Around the time he turned twelve, he came. A kid with messy black hair that was a bit shorter than ‘Mal’, as he liked being called, now, was, pale blue eyes looking around with a mix of confusion and fear. There were lots of rumors about this place going around from kids that left. Something about him appealed to Mal. He couldn’t really put his finger on it, but it felt almost like a crush. It was a confusing time for him, considering that he used to hopelessly try to appeal to girls. Nobody could know he also liked boys. What if people started ruining his life again?

Everybody in juvie had a roommate at some point. Right before the new kid came, Mal’s left, and coincidentally the kid ended up being assigned to Mal’s room. They bonded a little, despite Mal being kind of creepy. People that he crushed on always got creeped out. But hey, crushes were temporary, he’d get over it, right? The boy’s name was Duncan. He was alright.

Once he was thirteen, him and Duncan were close - well, not really. Mal thought they were. Duncan only stuck with him because he was more tolerable than the other people. It was a tense, awkward kind of friendship thing. Once Mal hit puberty he didn’t care how strong or weak you were, how tall or short, cause if you fucked with him, you were dead meat. At least once a week he’d land a kid in the infirmary from slipping up in his presence. Call it a bit of a superiority complex, cause he thought he was better than anyone else there and played them all like a fiddle. You could say he ruled the place.

He never really wanted to leave. Mostly because his house was gone, as well as his parents, but good riddance! Being in juvie got him some confidence, and his parents were hellspawn. He liked having control over everyone. The rumors that passed around about how he got there got better every time a new kid came around. People were convinced he committed a couple murders by the time he was fourteen.

He left six months after his fourteenth birthday, mostly because his other fronts hated his guts and managed to repress him completely.

Up until a certain selachophobe slammed a shovel down on his head.


End file.
